


Out Of My Head

by pezzinsons



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pezzinsons/pseuds/pezzinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was staring into his eyes again, and he could see the tiny planets quaking and threatening to crumble. If this was a preview of what he had yet to find, then Harry wished, for one selfish moment, that he could stop discovering Louis and relive the day they met forever.</p><p>OR</p><p>Louis decides to leave to give Harry a shot at a happier, normal life. Harry finds the journal he left behind and uses it to help him find the one person that made him feel full of worth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Of My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first fic I am publishing on here, so I am both excited and nervous! I've had the idea for a long while, and it has definitely been some work trying to write my first 1D fic. It is, for all intents and purposes, a 1D fic, but Perrie and Jesy are very crucial to the plot. This chapter is mainly to establish what I'm gonna be working with here, but I hope you enjoy my writing style nonetheless!
> 
> A couple of things to note before you read:  
> This story takes place primarily in Manchester, but please note that I am from the U.S., so please excuse any grammatical errors/general inaccuracies, it's just something I wanted to try my hand at! This is also not beta'd, so please forgive any mistakes (the sea of red spell check lines gets a bit blurred when you try to type out accents).

"Mummy, Daddy, tell us the story of how you two met again."

"Oh, toss off," Louis muttered and chucked the pillow on his lap toward the loveseat, smacking Niall's face.

A mixture of laughter bounced off the walls, overshadowing the grumbles of a certain boy now sat rubbing his nose. Harry felt a small ache in his cheeks as his own giggles died down. They were all sat in Louis' flat, flicking through Netflix titles, and trying to open Snapchat quickly enough to capture Niall and Louis fighting over the last slice of Domino's.

These movie nights were some kind of ritual that Harry always looked forward to after a long week. They had adapted some kind of silent formation: Perrie sat between Zayn's legs on the rug, (barely) sharing a bowl of popcorn from under the cotton candy pink blanket she all but now kept in Louis' closet; Niall spread out on the loveseat, somehow always king of the Wii remote; and to his left Harry cuddled up to Louis on the sofa. The current absentee, Liam, was usually the only one that switched it up, opting between either an arm of the sofa or a kitchen chair dragged into the living room. They'd always argue about what to watch, either a whined, "I saw that at the cinema, it was _rubbish_!" or a drawn out, "Harry, love, if they wanted to be bored out of their minds watching a documentary, they would've stayed at home."

Ultimately, this time it was Perrie who pointed a finger at the screen, excitedly. "Oh, look! They've added Grease. Click on that one, Niall."

He groaned in response. "You're gonna be singin' and quotin' the lines the whole time, how am I gonna enjoy it with a poorly cat mewling for two hours?"

She pursed her lips, and muttered something about how one day she was finally going to snatch that bloody remote from his hands once and for all.

"Come on, mate, it's a classic," Louis insisted. It was a rare occasion that Louis and Perrie agreed on something, the pair usually bickering over the slightest thing, giving Zayn a massive headache.

"You're just saying that because it's your favorite!"

"Start the damn thing. When you start payin' for me Netflix you may continue your moaning."

Another round of laughter filled Harry's tummy with butterflies, and he pulled at the large blanket draped over the back of the sofa, moving to unfold it, before poking at Louis' side.

"It is a great tale, should you tell it or should I, mummy?" he said.

Louis huffed beside him, "Oh, do go on, Harold, but I think we all know where you and I stand in that respect."

Niall produced an exaggerative gagging noise from his throat as Zayn stood up.

"I'm gonna have a smoke before you two make me sick," He said, making a grab for his jacket. "You comin', Lou?"

He shrugged and rose from the sofa, leaving a frowning Harry. He wondered how Perrie could stand cigarette-flavored kisses. "Might as well. Need to ring up Payno about somethin' anyway."

As the two headed outside, Perrie hopped up to sit beside Harry, helping him to unravel the blanket.

"I wish Sophia would come round more often. I don't like not having Liam here," he pouted.

Liam had been Niall's saving grace, a breath of fresh air amongst the "disgusting" displays of affection between the two couples of Harry and Louis as well as Zayn and Perrie. In the past couple of months, however, he'd begun dating a girl named Sophia, who had only come round to Louis' two or three times since the start of the relationship. Sophia typically worked Friday evenings in the campus library, but had the night off, prompting Liam to take a rain check on movie night.

"I'm sure she feels like she's not welcome amongst you lads, as if she's crashin' or somethin'," Perrie said through a mouthful of cold popcorn, and shot Harry a wink as she finished. "I, however, couldn't care less if I'm bugging ya."

"Really, though, H. You oughta be on Lou to include the story of how you two fell in love in his speech. Make Zayn and Pez seem like a couple a matchmakers or somethin'." Niall said, the idea nearly sending Perrie through the ceiling. She went on to gush about how it was all finally coming together, and how she promised to snag a takeaway box of the cake samples for Niall, just to reassure her that they had made the right choice.

Harry smiled, listening to the pair of blondes grow excited like a couple of teenagers. Truthfully, it was all thanks to Perrie and Zayn that he had found Louis, but it wasn't actually some deep, romantic saga that would make the all the relatives dab tissues to their eyes in the best man's speech at their wedding.

                                                                                                        *****************************  
Perrie had moved to Harry's tiny village when she was 10 and he was 9. Her family moved in just up the road from him, and as shown in the occasional throwback Thursday instagram post, there was actually a time when she was taller than him.

They never attended the same school, but grew to be close friends nonetheless. Gemma tried to host a sleepover or two, but Perrie cared naught for plaits and nail varnish, and each time she'd sneak into Harry's room at dawn, spunky yet sweet, and they'd go bike riding up and down the road, always earning a lecture from Anne when they returned.

As a teen she had earned herself a job at the local ice cream parlour, defying Debbie's wishes of having her sweep up bits of hair after her personal consultations. Harry would ride his bike over to the shop after school, and do his homework on the counter as Perrie would sing merrily behind it, just like a rosy-cheeked songbird, ponytail swaying side to side as she scrubbed spoons and wrung out washcloths. When Nicky Watts came in on a Thursday afternoon with his mates and whispered something crude about Harry's hair a little bit too loudly to be unintentional, Perrie spit in his milkshake.

One Christmas, when she was about 17, Perrie had gifted him with a sticker-filled scrapbook detailing their friendship, showing photos of them year after year; Harry inched up and out, no longer able to hide behind her back when he got nervous. They sat by the fire to flip through the pages, recalling embarrassing memories such as Harry having to coax Pez into telling her mum that she'd gotten her first period, and the time Harry blurted out that he had a crush about the size of the moon on the delivery boy after Perrie kept moaning, "Really? Pizza _again_?"

Then Perrie left for uni, and Harry merely cycled home after class, bored and anxiously waiting for photos of pastel pink hair and a growing collection of piercings. It wasn't long before she claimed to have found love in a "handsome, beautifully artistic" boy named Zayn. On her visits home for the holidays, she'd show him a blurry candid photo or two (making Harry admit that he was incredibly handsome), stating that he was kind of a private person. "He doesn't believe in selfies and he hasn't even got a Twitter," she spoke as if the idea was revolutionary. She seemed to light up every time she thought of a new story to share, flecks of sparkle in the happiest blue eyes he'd ever seen. Harry couldn't help but feel like he'd been replaced, just a smidgen.

Ultimately, he hadn't exactly planned on following her to the same university, but when it came down to choosing between the schools he had been accepted to, the proximity between Holmes Chapel and Manchester made sense, and though he'd begrudgingly admitted it to Anne as he started to back, having his best friend around again was really the deciding factor.

He met Niall in his first year composition class, and they got on well, partnering up for projects and comparing homework. He was an Irish lad, who had deferred a couple of years to save up, and thought that studying abroad would help him make a better life for himself than what his parents had. His eyes were always happy and his smile bright, and he didn't mind doing much of the talking, which suited Harry just fine. Outside of the endless lectures and exams, he was suddenly in-step once again with the wild flame that was Perrie Louise Edwards. They snuck up fire escapes to look out at Manchester's midnight, and he felt home in the unknown city.

Eventually, he grew quite acquainted with her friend Jesy, not minding the stacks of magazines or the bi-monthly viewings of The Notebook. It wasn't until mid-fall that he was finally slated to meet the infamous boyfriend.

"I'm not sure, Pez. I don't really talk to many people around here, where would I fit in at a Halloween party?"

She waved him off, dismissing his concerns. "H, this is not Holmes Chapel. No one knows you here, and everyone has about two thousand things on their minds to sort out before they could even consider judgin' you. You're a proper adult now, and I can't have you clingin' to my hip until we're ancient. Plus, you just have to meet Zayn. It's gettin' ridiculous now, it is."

He could see his reflection in the idle laptop screen behind Perrie, noticing how impressively deep his frown was. "It's not my fault our schedules conflict so drastically. Besides, I don't even have a costume. What would I be?"

She shrugged. "Leave your hair be, get one of them red ball noses, n' Bob's your uncle. Hazza the Clown." She caught the sock he hurled at her with a giggle.

"Bring along your Irish friend, so you won't be stuck in a corner all night by yourself. I'm sure he'll help you find a nice crowd."

He hugged one of her throw pillows to his chest, knitting his brows tightly together.

Nonetheless, he extended the invitation to Niall, and they opted to go as a mobster and Beetlejuice, respectively. Harry scrunched his nose when he first saw the makeup and hair his mate was sporting, looking a tad too realistic for his liking. They had agreed to meet up with Perrie about a block from the party, so that they could all walk in together. She was the first to spot them, calling out their names and waving them over. She was surrounded by a group of people, and Harry could already feel his stomach tightening at the impending introductions.

It was a nice evening, really, the air still and barely chilling. Far too warm for the end of October, Harry reckoned, but he'd take it. As if it wasn't lucky enough that Halloween had fallen on a Saturday night, the weather seemed to be disguised just like everyone else.

Perrie looked marvelous as Cleopatra, still beautiful in a cheap black wig, and he breathed a sigh of relief that all of the hours of "perfect cat eye" tutorials on YouTube had paid off for her. She held the arm of the most convincing Edward Scissorhands he'd seen since…well, the film. He looked quite daunting, with his cheeks impossibly sunken in, skin painted a ghostly white. (Harry wasn't a baby when it came to Halloween…he just didn't understand why everything had to be so scary.)

"Zayn," he introduced himself. Once a smile broke through, he seemed a lot less frightening. Harry threw him a timid wave, cheeks dimpling awkwardly. Cheery Niall dove into some sort of Tim Burton related conversation with him, and the two began chatting it up as if they'd known one another for a lifetime. Harry was slightly envious of Niall's people skills.

Perrie linked arms with him and dragged him over to introduce him to the rest of their group. He recognized Jesy with her boyfriend, Jake, dressed up as Sally and Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Two lads stood beside them, one very fit and dressed up as Batman, mask in hand, who introduced himself as Liam with a firm grip on Harry's hand. To his right was a chatty boy in a sailor's costume that owned a big laugh, removing a smoking cig from between his lips. His eyes were blue and he seemed to shimmer, reflecting the pinky-orange sunset off of his skin. His cheekbones were strikingly sharp, making way for a pearly grin.

"This is Louis Tomlinson, he's Zayn's best mate," Perrie announced, adopting a tone of dramatic bemusement. "Lou, this is Harry Styles, the love of my life from back home in Cheshire. You know, the one I'm always ravin' about."

Louis reached out and grabbed Harry's shoulder, and he tensed under the touch.  
"Ah, the curly one! Nice to finally meet him, innit, Payno? Was startin' to think we'd never get the honor." Batman nodded, giving him a sort of apologetic what can you do? look.

Harry hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until Louis' arm dropped back down to his side.

He was a good deal shorter than Harry - and just all around smaller. The costume had obviously been somewhat of a frivolous purchase, as it swallowed him in certain places, not clinging to his body where it should. The fellow was fit, though, that much was obvious - but something about the way the sleeves came down too far, threatening to drape over his fingers made Harry feel lightheaded.

"Come on then, he don't bite. You look like a deer stuck in headlights."

The voice sounded like it was a million miles away, muffled - maybe he'd imagined it, Louis certainly hadn't turned to search for it - before Harry let his gaze snap away to recognize that it had been Jesy, standing barely to the right of him, a vision of glittering eyelashes and burgundy tresses.

She was smiling at him cheekily, smudged eyeliner used to create the illusion of stitches on her face, and Harry forced out a laugh, embarrassed and unsure of what to say.

"Say, how fast can them gladiator sandals carry you, Edwards? Bet I can make it down the pave in half the time you can." The butt of the cigarette fell to the ground, stomped out embers flittering among the group's feet. Harry noted that Louis had decided to complete his ensemble with a scuffed up pair of Converse.

Perrie handed her handbag off to Harry, a flash of determination in her eyes. "Loser does a week's worth of laundry for the other?"

"Your funeral, babe," Louis chuckled, matching her position. "You'll count us off, won't you, Harold?" Louis' voice was high and chirpy, carrying his thick accent famously.

He nodded quickly, eager to impress, and watched the two rocket off somewhere between "one" and "go".

"Harold, is it then?" Liam asked over his shoulder.

A smile was tugging at his lips, cheeks warm, and he felt his nerves calm for the first time that evening.

"No."

                                                                                                          *************************

True to Perrie's premonition, stuck in a corner was exactly where Harry had ended up. He wasn't certain why, but he'd kind of expected the group to stick together as they maneuvered their way throughout the house party, beers in hand and signaling one another when to step over a puddle of vom - so he'd been surprised when it had dissolved moments after walking in, each finding their own proper niche. Perrie had made a beeline for a table covered in half-empty bottles, diving her manicured fingers into a bowl of crisps to comfort herself after miserably falling behind Louis in their race; Zayn followed behind coolly, observing his surroundings yet refusing anything the satisfaction of a reaction. Jake had found himself an empty armchair, sitting Jesy on his lap, allowing some bloke with a little too much enthusiasm to crank open their beers with his teeth. Where had Niall gone? God only knew.

Truthfully, Harry wasn't sure where Liam and Louis had found themselves either, but he wasn't sure if the two would really want him tagging along.

Still, he wondered what Louis was up to.

And so, he had literally settled into a corner, still working on the beer he'd opened about 30 minutes prior. In Harry's line of vision there was a small couch that had suddenly opened up, previously occupied by a couple that had been snogging rather grotesquely. He had a seat, and continued to endlessly observe the mass of bodies laughing and dancing in the main living area. The same few songs played on a loop, a playlist of rap and sensual indie rock, and by this point Harry could tap his foot to each beat effortlessly. The room was hot and made his stomach churn, full of sweat and spilled alcohol, but the kitchen was for the serious drinkers, mixed concoctions and overfilled shots, and he figured the bedrooms were locked. Harry pulled his iPhone from his pocket, taking a few photos, out of focus and dimly lit, and sent them to Gemma via WhatsApp accompanied with the caption "get me out of here".

He made a game of watching the speaker system pulsate, and checked his messages to find them opened but not replied to.

 _Traitor_ , he thought.

There was a shift on the couch beside him, and Harry looked up from his screen to see a girl he didn't recognize sipping a beer through a chewed-up white straw.

"Um, hello," he offered. She was staring, and she smiled lazily, revealing the lipstick smeared along the length of the straw. Her hair was up in two ponytails, one higher than the other, and there were streaks in her makeup from where sweat had run down her face. She was made up to be some kind of vibrant skeleton, Harry decided, dressed in a t-shirt decorated in a set of ribs and a short, rainbow colored tutu.

"You seemed lonely," she started, barely slurring. Her eyes were darker than her hair, and she smelled of cigarette smoke. "I figured I could keep you some company." She spoke a little too loudly, considering their compactness, but seemed harmless to Harry.

He had never really been drunk in his life, and wondered what this girl must be feeling. She seemed slightly sleepy, but also happy and comfortable, both of which Harry was definitely not. He took a swig from his lukewarm bottle and swished the liquid around in his mouth in an attempt to force himself to get acquainted with it. He let out a cough after choking it down.

"How do you stomach this stuff? It's disgusting."

She giggled and sipped on her own some more, explaining that you sort of just get used to it. They made a few minutes of mindless small talk, and Harry was content that she seemed a little too dazed to pick up on his general awkward manner.

She set her empty bottle on the floor, threatening to topple over for a few seconds before it steadied itself. Her index finger made her way into Harry's curls, twisting and untwisting a few slowly. He wasn't keen on anyone mussing up his hair, especially a stranger, but let her be, as he didn't want to chase away the only person who had paid him any attention all night.

"How did'ja get your 'air so curly?"

He shrugged. "It's natural, I guess," he shook his beer absent-mindedly, watching the last few drops of the amber-tinted liquid slosh about the bottle. "What does it feel like? To be drunk, I mean."

She giggled, scooting closer toward him, closing any distance between them, and their thighs were pressed together.

"Very good," she started. "I could…give you a comparison, if you'd like."

"Well, that'd be nice. I'd really like to know."

Her fingers took harsh root in his hair, and she moved her mouth to his neck, lips sticky and tongue hot.

"Oh! Ah- please, no, I don't-"

She hushed him, almost inaudible over the music. He squeezed his eyes shut, his fist gripping his trousers. What was he meant to do in this situation? He felt terribly uncomfortable, but didn't want to make a scene out of jerking away. The last thing he needed was everyone's unfamiliar eyes on him, thinking he was taking advantage of this drunk girl. Behind dark and starry lids, he could sense a bright flash go off, and her head exhumed itself from where it had been buried.

"Tsk, tsk, Kat. It sure would be a shame for Marcus to see this."

It was Louis.

"You wouldn't," she said unevenly. He was sporting a Chesire cat smirk and pretending to inspect the photo deeply.

"Wouldn't I, though?"

Rainbow tutu girl - Kat - rose swiftly from the couch, teetering briefly before brushing past Louis toward the hall. Louis took her space on Harry's right and draped his arm along the back of the couch.

"She's a sweet girl, really. Just doesn't have her head screwed on tight enough, I'm afraid." Harry felt undeniably timid next to Louis, a swirling mix of stale smoke and aftershave. There was an untouched cigarette perched behind his ear, and Harry wondered just how swiftly he could float through a pack.

"Thank you," Harry said. "You didn't have to…I just didn't want to hurt her feelings, you know?" His tongue felt heavy and dry.

Louis cocked an eyebrow up. "You can't let people walk all over you just because you're afraid to hurt their feelings."

Harry nodded dumbly, not knowing what else to say. So much for making a good first impression. If Louis was Zayn's age, that'd make him two years above Harry. He probably thought Harry was just a dumb kid, sticking out at this party like the sore thumb he felt like. Why, oh why, had he opted to come to this party?

"Wouldn't worry about it, though, she's positively hammered. Won't remember a thing come morning," Louis said, ruffling his hand in Harry's curls. It was somehow more endearing than when Kat had done it. "I came to your rescue, because I spotted you over here on your cell. Must have been texting your girlfriend or summat, yeah?"

"My…? Oh, no. I was messaging my sister, she just can't leave me alone." Harry explained, while attempting to restore his locks to their former glory.

 _Bloody liar_ , he thought to himself.

"So you've a sister as well, huh? Older or younger?"

Harry felt his body start to relax, inch by inch, brain encouraging bones to melt into the cushions. How fitting it was to meet Louis on an autumn evening, Harry thought; the boy basically personified the season, reminding him of warm colors, sharp winds, and the buzzing sensation of watching rainfall from the confines of four walls and a thick jumper. How wonderful he must be year-round. Harry tossed about the idea of him evolving along with the months. It seemed silly but rational, both at the same time.

"Older. Name's Gemma. Have you got one too, then?"

Louis offered a sweet chuckle, "Don't I wish. I've got five, as well as little brother. Bit of a madhouse, if you ask- OW! Damn it all!"

Startled, Harry couldn't help his gasp as he saw Louis swat a hand to the back of his neck, retrieving a dripping ice cube. Looking back, they saw Zayn hovering above, eyes crinkled and tongue set between his teeth mischievously.

"Gotcha."

Louis rose from where he was sitting with a heavy sigh, dropping the melting cube to the floor and Harry saw it crack in two.

"It's a bit of a game we play," he said, for Harry's benefit. "What is that, mate? Two shots?"

Zayn nodded, a twinkle still present in his dark eyes. This was a different side to the stoic boy Harry had seen before; more animated, and he could quickly gather why Zayn and Louis got on well. There was a spark between his eyes and Louis', excited and knowing. He sat up on the arm of the couch, next to Harry, leg planted on the ground, as they watched Louis retreat into the kitchen. Zayn asked Harry to help him free his hands, and they worked to unclasp a brown leather strap that held the contraptions to his arms. Abandoning them on the floor, he massaged his wrists. It all seemed a bit too extravagant just for one night, but was fantastic nonetheless.

"Where's Perrie gone?" Harry asked.

"Jake said he'd drop her and Jesy back at her's," he said. "Sleepover. Gossip, and all that." Harry nodded.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, watching the cube transform into water, before, "You fancy him, don't you?"

"Wha- who? Louis? I…I don't even know him," Harry stuttered, feeling his face heat up. Pez hadn't mentioned her lovely, artistic boyfriend was so nosey.

"Honestly, mate, you look at him like he's your dinner," Zayn taunted. "And you seem like you're starvin'."

Harry crumpled into himself, mortified, bringing his fingers to cover his mouth. "Is it really that obvious?"

"God, relax. I'm exaggerating, I just needed to make sure, is all. He's been keeping an eye on you all night, though. Thinks you're cute, I reckon, but he'd never admit that to me."

Did he really?  
                                                                                                                       *********************

Eventually, Niall and Liam had found them, and the five headed out at about one in the morning. Chill crept into Harry's bones, and he realized the night had finally removed her mask. The calm air and clear sky were long gone, replaced with a light mist and a breeze that was picking up steadily. The streetlamps were on, reflecting off of the wet pavement in a subtle orangey hue. Louis beckoned a cab for himself and Zayn, and as they were about to climb inside, he smiled at Harry - not teasing or taunting - but…sincere.

And Harry caught his gaze, for a brief moment only, and he could swear he saw the whole world revolving in Louis' eyes. Vast lands, stretching on for miles, full of thick grass and steep hills, meeting the depths of the ocean and every single one of its' inhabitants - all swirls and flecks of blues and greens and a hint of brown encapsulated within two tiny irises.

Then he was gone, in an instant, leaving Harry to keep staring where he had been, the dying rose bush barely in focus. He stood still, allowing the rainwater to slowly dampen his costume.

Louis was much more intoxicating than any alcohol could hope to be, Harry thought.

                                                                                                            **************************

The months that followed were filled with subtly flirty glances on nights out and Louis frequently stopping by Perrie's room on campus to drop off something for Zayn (conveniently only when Harry was in). Harry grew more enamored each day, smelling Louis in the air around campus and dreaming of his laughter.

It was marvelous. Harry had never found himself in this kind of situation before; he was unraveling, every thread freeing him of his anxieties. How magical it felt to find yourself and so much more in somebody, he thought. Never before had he believed you could become independent and confident by falling in love; that a head asleep on your shoulder could give you the strength to finally walk around with your head held high.

In December, before they were all obligated to head home for the holidays, Perrie had organized a get-together in her room to celebrate both Louis' 21st birthday and "a tiny Christmas for the small family they had become".

"A little mixer, she calls it," Zayn explained to them.

The room was fairly dark, save for the Christmas lights hung up on the walls and the TV playing Elf. They were all munching on biscuits and drinking hot chocolate, each trying to outshine the last in a gaudy festive jumper. Pez had cleared her desk of her books and laptop to make way for a tray of cupcakes and a tiny white tree showing off shiny blue baubles and the skinniest tinsel Harry had ever seen. They'd opted to only gift each other with their company; they were still struggling uni students, after all.

Jesy had sneakily inserted her copy of Olive the Other Reindeer into the DVD player, and sat on the remote after various complaints of, "I've never even heard of this film," and "Really, Jes, out of all the classics we could be watchin'!"

They were happy. They were happy, and comfortable, and that was as simple as Harry could put it. Jake placed a kiss on Jesy's temple and Zayn was massaging P's shoulders. Harry wished that he could write a letter to his younger self to not get so down about his weekends spent alone, because when the time was right he would find everyone he ever needed. He couldn't help but to let his eyes fall on Louis, who was glowing under the pretty reds and greens.

Around midnight or so, Perrie was starting to clean up, Liam following her with a small bin in his hands. Zayn nudged Niall to get up off the bed and stop drooling on the pillows. Sleepy chatter flowed throughout the room, only overpowered by yawns on the music of the DVD's menu screen.

Louis announced he was going to be the first to head out, and he hugged everyone and kissed the girls' cheeks, and Harry shuffled over to him nervously as he was slipping his shoes on by the door.

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't get you anything for your birthday," he said.

Louis smiled and pinched his cheek, telling him not to frown. "We all agreed there'd be no presents, correct? I've got letters to Father Christmas comin' out me ears for all the siblings I have'ta shop for."

"Well, I feel bad still. It must be crummy having your birthday the day before Christmas," Harry kept on. He wasn't ready to let Louis go yet, dreading all the time he'd spend thinking about him before the next semester rolled around. Louis only shrugged.

There was a wreath hanging above them on the door, with gold ribbon running through it and a shiny silver ornament with the year on it. Something about it reminded Harry of the way he now led the way for Perrie, of the way his favorite part of his bedtime routine was to have Louis call him just long enough to say a groggy goodnight before they both drifted off.

Something about it reflecting all of their friends with smiles on their faces made Harry put a hand on either side of Louis' face and kiss his lips.

****************************

Three years later, here they were, fighting over the Wii remote and having pillow fights on Friday nights, helplessly in love and surrounded by those they adored. Occasionally they were also joined by Jesy and Jake.The room definitely held a Liam-shaped hole, though.

Harry and Niall were the only two left in school, and were flatmates on campus, though Harry rarely spent his nights there (unbeknownst to Anne, who was still helping to foot the bills). Zayn was a bit of a starving artist; he'd sell a painting here and earn a temporary paid internship there. Perrie was working in a flower shop, spending her paychecks on film for her polaroid or bits for the wedding. Louis was waiting on a call from a primary school.

Perrie was twisting her ring when Louis and Zayn stepped back in, letting in an exhausted gust of wind with them.

"Ah, bubba, listen to this," she chattered excitedly, unlocking her iPhone and selecting the YouTube app. "I was thinking I might walk down the aisle to this, you know, switch up the tradition a bit?"

"Have you considered that a few of us might be tired of hearing about your bloomin' wedding, Edwards? Haven't you got a girl or five to ring up? You're in my spot." Louis said.

Harry stared at him quizzically. It was typical of him to poke fun at Perrie's expense, it was just their way of interacting, but it was unusual for him to be flat-out rude. He braced himself for her spitfire response, but only saw her pink lips curve upwards apologetically. Zayn appeared to be unfazed and settled back onto the carpet, not bothering to slip out of his coat.

Perrie stood and gestured to Louis' spot. "You're right, I'll admit. Just this once, though."

******************************  
Saturday evening had Harry sprawled out on his stomach on the bed, feet up in the air, nose deep in the umpteenth chapter he'd studied in the last few hours. Louis slunk into the bedroom, and took a seat on Harry's back, who groaned under the pressure.

"C-can't…can't breathe," he choked out, and Louis huffed. He snapped the textbook away, closing it and sliding it under the bed.

"I have an exam on Monday," Harry moaned. "I need to study."

"No, what you need to be doing is getting up. I'm taking you out tonight," Louis said proudly.

Harry gnawed at his bottom lip, trying to reformulate a study plan that would allow him a few hours out. He couldn't recall the last time he and Louis had actually gone out on a date. It couldn't have been before the semester had started. Luckily he had already showered, he thought, as Louis informed him the taxi had already been called for. He swung open the door to their closet - a disorganized mess, really; their jeans mixed in with one another, all the same few dark shades, a few band t-shirts and vintage button-downs from the thrift shop, and a suit jacket that just didn't seem to have an origin. He opted for his newest jeans and a thick grey jumper, a pair of tan suede boots on the floor catching his eye.

In the cab, Louis was making good conversation with the driver, and Harry held his hand as he stared out of the smudged window at the passing picture of Manchester's night life. Twinkling lights were starting to be hung as people transitioned from the end of autumn into Christmastime. He hadn't done any shopping yet.

Despite the heat blowing out of the vents, he snuggled deeper into his coat, trying to fight the late November chill. They passed the Midland, and Harry's stomach did a series of somersaults thinking about just how soon the spring would come - and bring their best friends' wedding date with it.

They ended up having Italian, as Louis would not hear of Harry's financial concerns. He'd be getting the call any day, he insisted, and this is what he had savings for.

Their dinner was delicious, and Harry loved that after all this time they could still have things to find out about each other.

"You really can't say spaghetti? I've never noticed."

Louis pursed his lips, adding an absurd amount of cheese to his plate. "I'm not going to demonstrate for you, so don't ask."

Harry was absent-mindedly swirling his pasta around in its' sauce, and looked at him with a full pout. Louis sighed.

"Pasb-…sag…pasghetti." He muttered quietly, lifting his glass to his lips in an attempt to hide the sound, but the way he delivered it in a dramatically posh accent let Harry know he was toying with him.

Harry laughed. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and pressed his hand to his bloated stomach, because the sight of a flustered Louis, over exaggerating his hurt with his mouth twisted and cheeks pink brought Harry too much joy to keep inside. He was trying to be funny. Always aiming to make him spit his water out or snort embarrassingly.

He went to the toilet, spotting the happiness in his eye in the mirror above the sink as he washed his hands. He returned to their table, putting a hand on Louis' shoulder, and bent down to kiss him softly. They heard someone clearing their throat loudly, and both sets of eyes darted to the right.

There was an elderly couple sat next to them, a little old lady in pearls who held her hand to her chest as if she was embarrassed. The sound had come from her husband, who wore wide bifocals and a frown on his face. They'd look sweet, really, if they didn't seem so upset.

"Have you _considered_ ," the man spoke, voice gruff, "that some of us may be trying to enjoy our meal?"

"Pardon?" He stared at Harry as if he were daft. He didn't like that. What had he done?

"I'd say that's what most of us are trying to do, so if you'd allow us," Louis said, raising his glass in their direction. Harry kicked his shin softly under the long tablecloth.

"It was bad enough watching you two holdin' hands over the table and makin' goo-goo eyes at each other all night long, but stickin' your tongue down his throat is just unacceptable!" His wife grit her teeth.

"Frank, please-"

"Yes, please, Frank, go on! I'm sure you're going to lecture us now. Let's have it then." Louis turned in his chair to face the man fully. His seemed much more irascible than usual, as he had the night before. They were beginning to earn a couple of stares from a few other customers.

"Louis, stop," Harry whispered desperately.

"It just ain't what God intended, boy."

"Oh, my mistake! I must have accidentally skipped over the passage in the bible that says it's a sin to "make goo-goo eyes" over the wine list." He was speaking unnecessarily loudly, and out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see a young waiter debating on whether to come over and break the whole thing up. He took a deep breath and started over, and Harry buried his face in his hands, mortified.

Old Frank twisted his head away, picking up his fork and stabbing his food loudly enough for Harry to hear. "So disrespectful. Shameful. Your father must be so ashamed."

Louis didn't say anything.

Harry peeked through his fingers to see him staring - not at the man, not at anything, really. The waiter reached their table just as he let out a light chuckle.

"Um, excuse me-"

And then Louis was up, chair screeching behind him. He dug into his back pocket and tossed his wallet onto the table. Coat in hand, he was out the door before Harry could even register what was happening. He shared a worried glance with the old woman.

"Could I…could you bring the bill, please?"

***************

Louis was already in the flat when Harry strolled in, rubbing his hands furiously. The lights were off and a program was showing on the television, holding Louis attention from the couch. A mixture of confusion and hurt was giving Harry a headache, and he could all but see the negative air emitting from the living area. Neither of them said a word and Harry decided a shower might be best.

The warm water worked Harry's muscles as he scrubbed his face. He didn't know what to say to Louis, if he should say anything at all. There was something so unnerving about his behavior the past couple of days; he wasn't one to get riled up by what other people had to say. Sure, he was always up for an argument - but the darkness in his manner when he'd accosted Perrie and the man at the restaurant was totally foreign.

When he came out into the bedroom in his pants with a damp towel in hand, he saw that Louis was there, staring at him blank-faced.

"You were singing some Grease."

Harry blinked stupidly. That was how they were starting this off? "Um, yeah. Been stuck in my head since last night."

Louis simply nodded. He was sat at the old vanity they kept in the corner, a hand-me-down from Jay with rings from mugs on the surface and a handle missing off of one of the drawers. Harry's favorite part about it was on the underside, sloppily scrawled in green crayon. It simply said Louis in capital letters with the S backwards. Terribly endearing.

"Come here, Harry." Louis said seriously.

He complied and moved to sit on his lap, dropping the towel to the floor. They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at their reflection in the dirty mirror. Louis had his arms loosely wrapped around Harry's stomach, and they watched as droplets fell from his hair.

"Your hair is getting quite long."

"Why did you leave, Lou?" Harry whispered. "What was it that he said?"

There was no answer for a long while. Louis pressed his lips to the corner of Harry's jaw.

"When I was 18, I was in a production of Grease," he murmured lowly.

"I know, I've seen the photos. You took the lead," Harry said exasperatedly. "But, Lou-"

"Listen, I'm going somewhere with this. I first saw the film when I was about seven. I was feeling poorly one day, and me mum let me stay home from school. She cuddled with me on the couch and we watched films all day. I thought it was just about the best thing I'd ever seen. They were all so cool, such good singers and dancers, and I even enjoyed the romantic bits. When my next birthday rolled around I begged for a copy, but me dad said no way. He wouldn't have that in his house. I didn't get what he meant at the time; thought it was just a movie. Opening night of our show, I looked out in the audience and saw Mum in the front row with all of the girls. He wasn't there that night, or any of them. I was really _angry_ , and I asked him why. He looked properly grief-stricken and asked me where we went wrong. Asked me what he'd done to deserve a son that was a fairy."

Harry wanted to cry. He wished so badly that he could turn back time, just for a couple of hours, and tell that old man to mind his own business. Tell him the only shameful thing was to make his beautiful man sour into this…whatever he was.

"Told him he was a right idiot, that taking a drama class didn't make me love men. Then I got sad, and might as well have groveled on my knees for how much I begged for him to not think of me as a disappointment," he continued. "Pathetic. All for nothing, too. Look where I've ended up."

Harry knew that he wasn't looking for reassurance. He wasn't fishing for his feelings to be justified, or even to be comforted. It wasn't a feeling Harry was familiar with. He'd definitely encountered the disapproving look in the streets, and even been whispered about in school - but when he'd come out to Anne and Gemma, they simply kissed his forehead and told him they loved him so.

On the surface of the vanity was a brown leather journal that was cracked at the spine and showed the various spills of tea on the brief vision of the pages.

"What have you written about tonight?"

Louis attempted to smile. "Don't you worry your little curly head about it. Maybe one day I'll let you see."

"It's probably what you use to complain about the way I take up the whole bed, isn't it?" Harry joked tepidly.

Louis made an sharp noise, not quite a laugh.

Harry was staring into his eyes again, and he could see the tiny planets quaking and threatening to crumble. If this was a preview of what he had yet to find, then Harry wished, for one selfish moment, that he could stop discovering Louis and relive the day they met forever.

**Author's Note:**

> This story likely won't have very many parts to it, but I hope you'll be interested to tune into the next chapter to see what happens. The plot will start to pick up soon. Thank you for reading! You can find me on tumblr at allthegirlsontheblock.tumblr.com :)


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